


The Voice from the Shadows

by Skittery



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cyrano - Freeform, Getting Together, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Multi, Schmoop, eventual polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skittery/pseuds/Skittery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marius grabbed his phone back, sending it tumbling to the floor.  They sat in silence for a minute, then Marius practically leapt from the couch, hovering above Courfeyrac, his face still flushed, looking like someone in a cartoon with a light bulb lit above his head.</p>
<p>“That’s it!” he said, starting to pace back and forth without moving more than two feet away from (/Courfeyrac/) the couch; he stopped suddenly, facing Courfeyrac.  “You can help me.  You can..tell me what to say, listen in and I’ll have an earpiece and a mic or something…”  He paused to gauge Courfeyrac’s reaction.  Courfeyrac was pretty sure he’d seen this in a movie, and it hadn’t worked out so well.   “You’re so good at all of this, no one can resist you, and it would only be one date and...please?”</p>
<p>It was an utterly ridiculous plan, and probably filled with holes, but Marius looked so hopeful and Courfeyrac had his vanities; Marius was looking at Courfeyrac like he was the only person in the world who could make everything okay, and they were friends, and the tiny pooling coil of hope in Courfeyrac’s stomach betrayed his better instincts. </p>
<p>Courfeyrac nodded, “But just this once.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Voice from the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lurkers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurkers/gifts).



“I think...I’m in love.”

The declaration hung in the air like a banner, a shadow draping over the living room with its cracked ornate coffee table and its all-business ikea bookshelves filled with textbooks and its slightly worn grey couch that more often served as a makeshift bed, purple striped sheets and a pilling green blanket stacked messily on one end, temporary and accustomed; the words flew into the cracks under the windows and into the night, settling in the dust against the baseboards and climbing the legs of the tiny table that served as both an eating place and a desk, sifting between the letters on the laptop keyboard that had, moments before, been animatedly shifting up and down.

Marius threw himself on the couch ( _bed_ ) as though the revelation had worn him out; Courfeyrac stopped typing.

He considered his roommate/friend( _/crush_ ) through the back of the couch; he couldn’t see Marius’s face, but he had sounded sincere enough, and his hand, hanging limply over the armrest above his head, implied the same intensity of emotion audible in his voice.  Courfeyrac had just enough time to think about how, if this were an old-fashioned melodrama, Marius would be the innocent lady who fell constantly into an overwhelmed faint, and to consider if this was a good time to make a joke about it ( _he was considering beginning with ‘my dear lady marius!’_ ) before the content of the words hit him; his stomach sank and rose simultaneously, filling with anticipation mixed with dread mixed with pride, his hand stuttered against the keyboard again, thoughts flying through his head as he tried to figure out the best way to reply, trying to figure out who she ( _he?_ ) might be, how to ask without betraying the green fog creeping behind his eyes alongside the relief that, as it turned out, Marius was not in training to be a monk.

He settled on a clarification.  “What?”

Marius lifted his head languidly above the back of the couch, his eyes glassy and his cheeks a ridiculous shade of red that Courfeyrac told himself was absolutely not adorable, in any way.  “I think I’m in love.”

Courfeyrac adjusted his face so that it held his normal calm, confident ( _hopeful_ ) expression instead of the mixed panic/interest he was feeling.  “When did this happen, just today?”  

Marius looked embarrassed and mumbled something between a yes and a no.  Courfeyrac was usually good at figuring people out, especially his friends ( _especially Marius_ ), but this was odd, even for Marius, who was in general, somewhat odd.  Marius could fly ( _fall_ ) between passion and self-conscious discomfort at a moment’s notice but he was rarely like this, lit with desire and dampened by the overwhelming nature of his thoughts, all at once; Courfeyrac had often seen Enjolras like this, and Grantaire, occasionally, but not Marius.  Marius was awkward, and wore plainly both his affluent upbringing and his attempts to distance himself from it; essentially, Marius was attractive but odd, and this was part of why Courfeyrac had been able to swallow his tiny ( _all-consuming_ ) crush on Marius while they became close friends.  Marius always came home, alone; seeing as he lived on the couch, he knew about Courfeyrac’s swift ( _unsatisfying_ ) relationships and never seemed to judge, although he never seemed interested either, and Courfeyrac knew that he brought home some interesting ( _attractive_ ) people; somehow this had all given Courfeyrac a sort of despairing hope, reinforced by familiar touches and the empty promises of friendly embraces and fond words.  

He felt the hope spark now, with Marius looking at him so fervently, until the other opened his mouth.  “I’ve seen her around for weeks now but this is the first time we actually...talked.”

Courfeyrac’s hope sank deep into his stomach, and Marius looked suddenly so miserable that he was afraid his emotion might be catching.

“I’m just...not very good at this...stuff,” Marius said dejectedly.  

Courfeyrac fought back a strong urge to laugh and gave up on his studying, leaving the table in favor of walking to Marius on the couch.  “Well yeah, of course you’re not. This is why most people date casually before they go off and fall madly in love.”  

Marius groaned and lifted himself half off the couch to make room for Courfeyrac to slip in, leaning back against his shoulder once Courfeyrac was pressed up against the armrest.  It was normal, and comfortable, and the warmth of Marius against him reminded Courfeyrac of all the times they had sat on this couch and he had teased Marius about his lack of prospects, his apparent inability to date, how much he was missing out on.  His own feelings aside, Courfeyrac felt he probably ought to help re-center Marius, to be the shoulder he could ( _wanted to_ ) lean on.  The amorous pink light of the sunset filtered in through the half opened window blinds, playing across their faces like a veil.

“So what happened?”

Marius groaned again and leaned further back into Courfeyrac’s shoulder for a moment, “I kind of...wrote her a note?  And um, gave it to her and waited while she read it?  And then she said her name was Cosette and she’d been waiting for me to ask her out and then she had to go so...we’re going out Friday night.”

Courfeyrac resisted the ever-present urge to wrap his arms around Marius, especially when he sounded so unsure of himself, especially when they were basically cuddling already.  “So what’s the problem?”

“Well, what do I actually say to her on an actual, full-length date?”  Marius pulled his phone out of the pocket of his ( _tight)_ jeans ( _no wonder he got a date_ ) and scrolled quickly through it, shoving a slightly blurry photo of an incredibly pretty girl over his shoulder at Courfeyrac.  “Also, she’s way out of my league.”

Courfeyrac took the phone - he thought he might have recognized her, although he couldn’t be sure; there was something appealing about her, and strong beneath the flowery dress she was wearing and the pink tint of her cheeks.  In spite of himself, and even though taking pictures of the girl you were about to ask out from a distance was verging on creepy, Courfeyrac had to acknowledge that Marius had done exceptionally well finding the first real date he’d had since they’d met.  

“You’re right,” he said, ducking sideways to avoid Marius’s half-hearted swat in response, “but you’ll be fine just, you know, quote some poetry, compliment her, it’ll be fine.  Just...pretend you’re me.”  

Marius grabbed his phone back, sending it tumbling to the floor.  They sat in silence for a minute, then Marius practically leapt from the couch, hovering above Courfeyrac, his face still flushed, looking like someone in a cartoon with a light bulb lit above his head.

“That’s it!” he said, starting to pace back and forth without moving more than two feet away from ( _Courfeyrac_ ) the couch; he stopped suddenly, facing Courfeyrac.  “You can help me.  You can..tell me what to say, listen in and I’ll have an earpiece and a mic or something…”  He paused to gauge Courfeyrac’s reaction.  Courfeyrac was pretty sure he’d seen this in a movie, and it hadn’t worked out so well.   “You’re so good at all of this, no one can resist you, and it would only be one date and...please?”

It was an utterly ridiculous plan, and probably filled with holes, but Marius looked so hopeful and Courfeyrac had his vanities; Marius was looking at Courfeyrac like he was the only person in the world who could make everything okay, and they were friends, and the tiny pooling coil of hope in Courfeyrac’s stomach betrayed his better instincts.

Courfeyrac nodded, “But just this once.”

Marius practically jumped with joy, and Courfeyrac suddenly noticed what he was wearing.  He clearly hadn’t been as good an influence as he’d thought; maybe this Cosette would have better luck.

“Marius, why are you wearing a tie?  And why is your tie down to your knees?”  

Marius stopped jumping.  The light filtering into the room had turned a duller orange, blending rather poorly with Marius’s already questionable green tie, which was actually hanging down to his ( _thighs_ ) legs ( _pelvis_ ); Courfeyrac dragged his eyes away from the end of the tie at approximately the same second that Marius seemed to realize where his tie actually stopped and laughed awkwardly.  The air hung thick again, and Courfeyrac repeated his accustomed mantra, the one that kept the hope from burning out: _this can’t just be in my head_.

Marius cleared his throat, “Isn’t this...isn’t this how people are wearing these now?”  

Courfeyrac laughed, “No, no one does that anymore.  You look like a tiny kid wearing your father’s tie.”  

There, that was it, the least sexy thing he could think of to say about a tie hanging to someone’s groin.  Marius swallowed.  

“Wait, you didn’t wear a tie _just to ask a girl_ out did you?”

Marius shrugged, “I wanted to look nice.”

Courfeyrac found himself stuck between saying _you didn’t need a tie to look good_ and _well that tie did not accomplish that_ ; his brain had barely caught up with his mouth when he realized what he had actually said was, “How come you never wear a tie for me?”  Which was a vaguely horrifying response.  If only Marius would wise up to how inept Courfeyrac could be around someone he actually liked, he probably wouldn’t be asking for his expertise in dating.

Marius grinned, “How come you never take me anywhere nice?”  

Courfeyrac patted the couch next to him, aware that he was getting out of that statement far too easily.  “Come on, sit down,  I’ll take you to dinner and a movie on the nicest couch in the city.  And we should start planning for your date...”

Marius scuttled into the kitchen to hunt up a takeout menu, undoing his tie as he went.  Courfeyrac leaned his head back against the couch cushions, trying not to think about Marius taking his clothes off or talking to pretty girls or taking his clothes off with pretty girls, although he had to admit that wasn’t the worst image he’d ever thought up.  Courfeyrac didn’t need the pit rapidly reforming in his stomach to tell him that this was a terrible idea, or that, despite this admission, there was nothing Marius could ask him for that he wouldn’t give. ( _nothing_ ).

***

Marius woke abruptly in the middle of the night on Thursday night, anticipation welling in him and dreams pestering his mind until it roused.  He had been dreaming of Cosette, he knew, because he often dreamed of her, ever since he had seen her; and he thought he might have been dreaming of Courfeyrac, too, which made sense, since he was part of the plan, part of the date now, essentially, intertwined with Marius’s anxieties about tomorrow night, not that Marius dreamed of his roommate often, he didn’t think, or he didn’t remember, or he didn’t want to admit it.  Marius had grown up with a strict dichotomy between girls and boys, and the pairing of individuals from each side as an end goal; Marius hated how he had grown up, now that he was actually grown, and his more recent associations had caused him to question almost everything, but especially this.  Why, Courfeyrac had said, on a particularly spectacular and drunken night, should you have to confine yourself to one or the other or even to those two barriers when love can come up anywhere, from anywhere?  Marius had been forced to admit, as they sat with their feet hanging out of Courfeyrac’s window, dangling over the sleeping street below, that it made sense, that he wouldn’t want to restrict himself the way others might have wanted to restrict him, simply because they didn’t think he could form his own opinions of right and wrong.  Marius had suspected, for a fleeting moment that night, that Courfeyrac was going to make a move on him, and he was ready, waiting, even, but the moment had passed and Marius had forgotten, or misplaced the memory of the moment, or he didn’t want to admit to himself that he’d even had that thought.  The next night Courfeyrac had brought home some girl with a name neither of them would remember exactly in a week and it had seemed unimportant to remember the fleeting moment, especially when Courfeyrac brought him coffee the next morning and said he maybe actually liked this one, and shouldn’t Marius find himself a girl while he still had his looks, followed by a laugh, followed by forgetting.

Marius hadn’t even allowed himself to have thoughts of anyone but Cosette since he’d seen her, since he’d awkwardly stumbled past her on a few occasions, momentarily blinded by her beauty, taken in like a sailor to a siren, barely staying afloat.  He would steal glances, and then come home to Courfeyrac, to Courfeyrac’s home where he was a guest and at the same time a staple, a part of the norm; Marius was glad to have a date, beyond glad, but he also would have moved in with Cosette immediately if she’d asked, he just didn’t want to admit to himself that he’d have to find a way to bring Courfeyrac, to continue with normal, the normal he actually liked, and wanted, even though he also wanted more.  

Marius hadn’t been sleeping well since he’d asked Courfeyrac for help.  He glanced over at the hook on the wall by the door, where his only good suit had been hung, hoping to shed its wrinkles, with a tie Courfeyrac had lent him instead of his old green one; even though Courfeyrac seemed certain a tie was going above and beyond and really unnecessary, Marius wanted to have one, at least, to control every variable he could, leaving only his own inability to speak properly when faced with her as the last hurdle to climb.  He had rationalized, once, that here was the difference: upon seeing Cosette, he’d been stunned, speechless, a cliche of a man, and when he met Courfeyrac he’d had none of these symptoms, nor with anyone else, ever; certainly that had to mean something, had to be the difference, between love and love.  He didn’t include in his rationalizations the way his stomach sometimes leapt randomly when he came home, the way he felt so comfortable leaning his head against Courfeyrac while they watched a movie, even though he’d never had friends, before, who were so tactile with him.  He didn’t include these things because he didn’t admit them, or he didn’t remember them, or because he knew he was in love with Cosette and that was that.

Marius closed his eyes, picturing her face, and felt uneasily asleep again.  He dreamt of Cosette, her face and her hands and all of herself swimming across his sleeping mind; if he dreamt of Courfeyrac, he didn’t know, or he didn’t remember, or he didn’t want to admit it.

***

They had planned this to the letter; Marius had texted Cosette and told her to meet him at a specific cafe for their date, one which just happened to have another cafe directly across the street from it, so that Courfeyrac could sit in that one and observe them at their cozy, candlelit table while he drank enough wine to smother his jealousy but not enough to confuse his tongue.  The cafes were both busy enough on Fridays, but not usually frequented by their other friends, so that Marius’s date wouldn’t be interrupted, nor would Courfeyrac’s spying.  

He certainly felt like a spy; they’d found Marius an earpiece and a tiny microphone to clip inside his shirt collar, Courfeyrac had his own headphones in one ear, and all they had to do was maintain a phone call for the whole thing to work.  It was easier than Courfeyrac had suspected, although it was possible that was because his notion of the tactic came from outdated movies, and finding the equipment for Marius had only taken a slightly dubious conversation with Combeferre, who somehow had access to everything and was too trusting of Courfeyrac to question his occasional odd requests.  

Despite Courfeyrac’s insistence that really he didn’t need a tie, Marius had dressed up in his full suit, tie included, and Courfeyrac had to admit, it did sit well on him; he looked distinguished ( _incendiary_ ).  Courfeyrac kept his hands in his pocket on the walk to the metro, and then again on the walk to the cafes, not trusting himself to control his urge to reach out and grab Marius’s hand ( _ass_ ); the suit was messing with his impulse control.

They broke apart a block or so before they reached the two cafes, and Courfeyrac clapped Marius on the back in what he hoped was an encouraging way before crossing the street.  He nabbed a table in the front corner of the outdoor seating, glad they were doing this in early autumn instead of in the middle of winter.  He ordered wine and some food and watched as Marius met his date across the street and the two of them awkwardly hovered a foot from each other over the table, undecided if they should hug or kiss hello or just sit down; they sat.

“Smooth,” Courfeyrac muttered, already somehow forgetting that Marius would be able to hear him ( _this might be harder than he’d expected_ ); he could see Marius redden from where he was, and the responding hand that Cosette put on his arm encouragingly.  Courfeyrac was suddenly flooded with doubts, why was he even here ( _not there?_ ), watching the object of his affections on a date with a strikingly attractive girl who apparently also was kind enough to not falter at Marius’s awkwardnesses; he took a long ( _discouraged_ ) drink of wine.

He could hear Cosette speaking then, making the appropriate small talk for starting a date; the microphone was good enough that he could hear the nerves underneath her voice, the wavery strength bordering the lilting, girlish tone of her words; it was somehow simultaneously attractive ( _alluring_ ) and aloof, definitively interested and uncertain.  Courfeyrac instantly liked her, which was going to be problematic, since she was the competition ( _thief_ ).  

He was about to try speaking to Marius when he saw the waiter come over; he watched as Marius fumbled to pick up a menu, which he held upside down for an excruciating twenty seconds before he apparently realized he couldn’t actually read any of the words and in trying to flip the menu over quickly, ended up essentially throwing it at Cosette, who gamely ordered them a bottle of wine while Marius fidgeted and picked something to eat at random after a second glance at the righted menu, trying to laugh it off with the most nervous ( _unsuccessful_ ) laughter Courfeyrac had ever heard.  Courfeyrac sighed; Marius was kind of a mess.

“Tell her she looks nice,”  Courfeyrac said quietly into the microphone attached to his headphone wire, wishing he had thought to bring someone else into this plan so it looked less like he was talking to himself.  She did look nice, wearing a dark ( _royal_ ) blue dress that hit just above her knees, her hair hanging in waved curtains over her bare shoulders, as if asking to be gently pushed back.  

“Tell her...compliment her dress, tell her she looks striking, then apologize, that she was so beautiful you literally forgot how to read the menu...”  Courfeyrac was half a glass of wine into this, and he was starting to get into the swing of it, to imagine himself in Marius’s shoes ( _pants_ ), as if this was his date, as if he was the one trying to impress and entice.  

It was surprisingly not difficult, once he got going; Marius repeated his prompts word for word, and Cosette’s position shifted from thinly veiled surprise to renewed interest, her legs angling towards him under the table, her fingers brushing aimlessly through the ends of her hair, her eyes never leaving his face.  Courfeyrac ordered another glass of wine; he was either celebrating or getting plastered in avoidance, he didn’t want to decide which.

***

Cosette was a little confused.  She was over the moon, ecstatic to be out, here, on her own, with this boy, who she had been watching for weeks, silently, hoping she wasn’t imagining it when he looked back, for a split second.  She’d been pleasantly surprised when he gave her the obviously painstakingly overwritten letter; who wrote letters anymore?  It was odd and juvenile and mature and perfect.  She could just imagine Marius bent over a desk in the middle of the night, writing drafts of the letter until he felt like it was perfect, going over the words again and again until the result was something that felt spontaneous and read like a rehearsed monologue.  

She had readily agreed to come out with him, with only a slight reservation sitting beneath her excitement.  Cosette had grown up in relative isolation, and she had attended all-girls schools her entire life, so her perceptions of dating were slightly skewed and confused and certainly not well-learned even though she’d been in university for a few years now, and knew that she was one of those girls who could easily get a date with anyone if she wanted.

But the point was, Cosette had been surprised when Marius gave her the letter.  Because she thought Marius was already dating someone, because she always saw him arriving or leaving with someone, or texting someone, the same someone; because she had been fairly certain that Marius was gay.  That, and seriously dating this boy; the one he had even come with tonight, although they had parted ways a few blocks down, and she hadn’t seen where the other boy had gone.  

But Marius certainly didn’t seem like he wasn’t into girls now, or at least, like he wasn’t into her.  She had been forced to literally bite her tongue to stop from laughing when they had first sat down and Marius had been so nervous, so incredibly scattered that it was ridiculous and, honestly, adorable.  Only right after that, something had changed; suddenly Marius had swept aside his nerves and become, there was no other way to put it, kind of suave.

He was complimenting her, but not the stuttered compliments she’d been expecting after reading his letter, not the stilted and awkward lines she’d memorized after reading and rereading it over the past week.  He was quoting poetry, and saying exactly the right thing, taking a moment, maybe, before responding to her, as if to collect his thoughts, but then launching into a reply that made his letter seem like something he must have written years and years ago, when he was an awkward teenager, not this man sitting across from her.  

Of course, that wasn’t possible, she knew that they hadn’t seen each other before the past few months, and that letter was most definitely intended only for her.  But this Marius was so different, and collected, and she was weak in the knees and transfixed on him, and thoroughly confused.

She wanted answers, but she couldn’t figure out how to phrase any of her questions.  How did you ask someone what was wrong when the problem was that they weren’t awkward enough?  How did you ask the person you were on a very successful date with if he happened to already have a boyfriend?  The second question was the real problem, because she almost didn’t want to know.  The other boy, the one she’d thought Marius already belonged to, was incredibly good-looking, probably the way she would look if she was a boy, to be completely honest.  And she would be crushed if Marius changed his mind about her; although she really didn’t see anything in his demeanor that suggested her would, she wouldn’t be the one to prompt it.

The dinner seemed to fly by, and suddenly it was 10pm and she was starting to wonder what was going to happen after dinner.  Marius was in the middle of describing something he was discussing in this political group he sat on the fringes of, although he was somehow managing to make politics sound incredibly erotic, or maybe that was just her.

The bill arrived and Marius grabbed for it, looking at the piece of paper like he was preparing to sacrifice himself for the greater good.  Cosette was, herself, gearing up to get annoyed; she wasn’t really into having people pay for her, she was of the opinion that she could do absolutely anything a man could, and more, and that included putting money down on a table after a date.  She was prepared to argue when Marius suddenly looked relieved and asked if she didn’t mind splitting the check.

They paid, and Cosette felt anticipation coiling in her stomach; what happens now, what do you do when you’re on a date with the perfect man who is acting strange and might be already dating someone else but you’re still pretty sure he’s THE ONE?  Marius looked like he was going to say something, so she hurried to speak first.

“Do you live around here?  I still live at home, but maybe we could go to yours and watch a movie or something?”  

It was a little sudden, and a little inappropriate, probably, but Cosette couldn’t get rid of the nagging thought that this could end up being their only date if she found out that she was the proverbial other woman.  

Marius looked a little taken aback, and he paused for a long while before grinning and saying of course, of course she could come over, and a movie would be lovely, and how did she know he was hoping the date wouldn’t just end here.  Cosette smiled, and excused herself to the bathroom before they left, claiming she had to powder her nose, which Marius apparently didn’t understand was a joke, a glimmer of the charmingly awkward Marius she had been expecting.  

Cosette was happy, she was optimistic, she was excited; she was a little bit confused.

***

The moment Cosette was inside, searching out the bathroom, Marius let himself breathe.  The plan was going well, even he could tell, even despite the spectacular display of ineptitude that begun the evening.  Cosette was everything he’d imagined, and more, he could barely talk when she looked at him, he felt like he was looking at an angel, grounded only by the whispered words passed to him by Courfeyrac, saving him from what would have been an incredibly stressful evening if he’d tried to go it alone.  Not that she wasn’t trying to make him feel comfortable, he could feel waves of compassion, or was it passion, and acceptance pouring out of her, he could tell she was happy to be here, with him, and he was most definitely not thinking at all about Courfeyrac, alone across the street, in the darkness while he bathed in Cosette’s light.

“Ohh Courf I am so sorry I don’t know what made us agree, why did we agree to that it’s not even my house oh noo she’s going to find out I live on your couch…”  Marius was trying to babble quietly, because he knew it really looked like he was talking to himself, and furthermore talking to himself as though he were two different people, which was not generally the impression he wanted to put out while he was trying to appear cool and collected.  His stomach was in knots, he regretted eating at all, he was wondering what kind of movies she liked and whether she would be put off by his bed/couch, how quickly he could get in and move the sheets away so it just looked like a normal couch, how quickly Courfeyrac was planning to come home and whether he could keep him in his ear for this or not; his mind was in knots.

“It’s fine,”  Courfeyrac whispered, and Marius’s stomach burned, but it wasn’t because of Courfeyrac’s voice, it was his nerves, it was the last sip of wine left in his glass, it was…

“I’ll go...somewhere else.  So you can have the apartment,”  Courfeyrac paused, then: “You can even use my bed, if you need to, so you don’t have to explain to her that you live on my couch after your first date, but um…”  Pause. “Yeah, that’s fine, I’ll go somewhere else.”

Marius swallowed, and made himself say thanks.  He hadn’t, really, even thought that far ahead; he wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and he was pretty certain Cosette wouldn’t want to know what his bed looked like after one date, anyway, which was okay, because he couldn’t wrap his mind around actually being allowed to wake up next to her, not yet.  At the same time, there was something alluring in the very suggestion, not that Marius hadn’t been in Courfeyrac’s bed before, or at least on top of it, helping Courfeyrac hang a poster on the ceiling once, curling up to watch a movie on a particularly cold day after the heat had already been turned off for the season, helping Courfeyrac maneuver after he got sick, one time.  But the idea of being there, in that room, with Cosette, surrounded by the smell of her, was overwhelming; Marius shivered, and if he was also thinking about the smell of Courfeyrac, that must live in that room, in that bed, being surrounded by that, he didn’t know it, or didn’t want to admit it.

“How do we proceed?”  Marius asked quietly, and he knew as soon as he said it that it was a weird way to phrase the question, that his mind was still far away in a bed.  “I mean, it would be weird if I suddenly stopped being able to handle everything right?  I need your help.”

Courfeyrac laughed, but it sounded choked.  “I’m pretty sure I don’t need to hear whatever you’re doing with the rest of the night…plus you won’t talk during the movie, you just have to make it home.”

Marius had to acknowledge the truth in that, and he was bolstered by the way the dinner had gone, by the words whispered to him before, enough that he thought he could maybe actually handle enough small talk to get back to the apartment.  Something itched at the back of his mind, and he muttered a thanks as he watched Courfeyrac stand up across the street and start walking in the direction opposite his apartment; he wanted to wave but thought that would be weird, so he didn’t, making himself sit still until Cosette came back and the call to Courfeyrac cut off with a burst of static and they started walking.  And if the itch was because Courfeyrac had said “need” instead of “want”, Marius didn’t think about it, or didn’t consciously realize it, or didn’t want to admit it.

***

Courfeyrac ended the call to Marius and walked briskly to the closest metro stop in the opposite direction to where he knew Marius would be going.  He felt both satisfied with the success of this evening and slightly miserable; he knew he was doing the right thing, helping out a friend, by abandoning his apartment to Marius for the night, but he also felt a surge of unhappiness ( _excitement_ ) in his stomach when he thought about Marius actually taking him up on his offer to use the only real bed in the apartment.

He went straight to the cafe across town where he suspected his other friends would be, relieved to see Enjolras and Combeferre stooped over a pile of papers on a table in the back, and Grantaire sitting with Joly on the bar stools closest to the same table.  Courfeyrac threw himself down in an empty chair and sighed dramatically.

“What’s happened to you?”  Combeferre asked gently, looking up from the paper stack and taking off his glasses, which he used primarily for reading.  

“I’m having kind of a bad night,” Courfeyrac replied.  He briefly considered the merits and faults of telling all of them what had transpired in the earlier part of his evening.

“What’s wrong?”  Enjolras broke in, also looking up from the table, although he kept his hands firmly on the papers in front of him, clearly planning on leaving off whatever they had been working on just for the moment.  

Courfeyrac launched into it, not sparing any details since all of them were already aware of his crush ( _infatuation_ ) on Marius, and because he knew none of them would let it get back to Cosette, one of the benefits of Courfeyrac himself being the biggest gossip in the group.  All four of them were staring intently at him as he finished explaining about Marius’s ( _their_ ) date.

“Well?  What do you think?  Also can I sleep at one of your places tonight?” Courfeyrac concluded.

Grantaire broke the silence.  “That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Combeferre grinned, “And there you have it.”

Courfeyrac started to protest, even though he wasn’t so sure they were wrong.  

“What are you going to do now?  Are you going to go on all of his dates with him?  She’s probably freaking out right now because he sounds like a completely different person.”  Joly sounded worried.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Courfeyrac admitted, even though he really didn’t want to think how Marius and Cosette were doing ( _positioned)_ by this point.  “Besides, he may be incredibly adorable, but he’s got absolutely no skills.  I’m, you know, teaching him to fish.”

“I think you’re completely missing the point of that idiom,”  Enjolras advised.  

“Whatever, the point is..”

“The point is it’s a terrible plan,” Combeferre cut in, sitting down next to him and looking at him in that incredibly learned way that made Courfeyrac instinctively shut up because he was about to receive some wisdom.  “Even if you’re successful, this girl is now falling for some weird hybrid of you and Marius, not to mention you’re driving the boy you’ve pined over for months into the arms of someone else.  This cannot end well.”

Courfeyrac huffed.  “It’ll be fine, it’s all...fine.”

Grantaire put a reassuring hand on Courfeyrac’s shoulder, “That’s the spirit.  Let me buy you a drink that’ll make you forget about Marius, and then you can go sleep on Enjolras’s couch.”

Annoyance flashed briefly across Enjolras’s face at his couch being offered up by someone else, but he didn’t argue, and Courfeyrac knew that was roughly the same as acquiescence from Enjolras, who did have a very comfortable ( _expensive_ ) couch.

Courfeyrac accepted both offers, letting a glass be put into his hand as Combeferre and Enjolras tried to draw him into their work while Grantaire and Joly enticed him with a game in which they tried to decide if apparent couples were actually dating or not.  He focused on all the people around him, the ones he knew and the ones he didn’t know ( _yet_ ), and tried not to think about Marius, or Cosette, or how much he was secretly wishing he had been an asshole and pushed himself into position as the third wheel for the second half of this date in his own apartment.  Courfeyrac landed hard on Enjolras’s couch at 1am and fell immediately asleep, visions of microphones and ties and blue dresses floating across his mind.  

***

Courfeyrac coached Marius through two more dates in the next two weeks, and as far as he could tell, it all seemed to be going very well for Marius, although Marius had assured him that after their first date, Cosette had left before the next morning, and that nothing “untoward” had happened.  Courfeyrac hadn’t been sure he should trust him, but had subsequently been relieved ( _disappointed_ ) to find his bed unused and in the exact state he’d left it in.  Marius told him they were taking it slow; Courfeyrac replied that he envied Marius his apparently enormous self-control.

Marius was still around the apartment a fair amount, although not as much as B.C. (Before Cosette), which again created in Courfeyrac a mixed sense of pride and dejection.  He was prepared for yet another Marius-less friday night, which was annoying in that Marius’s new relationship had reinvigorated Courfeyrac’s interest in ( _lust for_ ) Marius, which meant he just wasn’t as interested in going out on a friday to pick up someone else, even though a friday night spent at home was not how Courfeyrac liked to start his weekends.

He was dragging himself up the stairs to his apartment after having a dinner with Enjolras and Combeferre that turned into an hour-long debate over coffee; Courfeyrac found these discussions both thoroughly invigorating and completely draining, and usually tried to avoid them on friday night.  Sounds floated through the door into the hallway, and Courfeyrac barely registered the thought that someone else was home before he opened the door and found himself face to face with Cosette, who apparently had been preparing to unlock the door for him, as if she lived here, and who looked mildly spectacular up close even though she had forgone her dressier date clothing for more casual pants and a sweater that hit ( _clung_ ) in all the right places.  Marius was sitting on the couch, looking happy and anxious and awkward and himself wearing his nicest pair of jeans that also hugged ( _clung_ ) in all the right places; the two of them looked like a clothing ad, that just happened to be live and in his apartment unexpectedly.  

“Hi!” Cosette said, and even though she was smiling brightly, she sounded slightly off, like she wasn’t sure if she should be excited or intimidated or annoyed with him.  All of which seemed a little presumptuous since they hadn’t ever actually met before. “I’m Cosette.”

“Hi.  Courfeyrac.”

“Marius didn’t tell me anyone else was coming, but you’re welcome to join us.”

Courfeyrac didn’t miss Marius’s slight blush, he didn’t miss the fact that Cosette still seemed caught between being welcoming and being suspicious, he didn’t miss that she apparently didn’t know they were actually in his apartment, he didn’t miss the tiny jolt ( _avalanche_ ) in his stomach.  

Courfeyrac glanced in Marius’s direction, looking for a signal for whether he should stay or leave; his plan to come home and collapse in his room ( _and wallow_ ) was suddenly looking like less of an option, but the idea of going back out into the cold evening just to end up in the middle of another impassioned political conversation seemed incredibly unappealing.  Marius looked slightly panicked, but he just shrugged, which was enough for Courfeyrac.  

“Sure, great,” he said, turning back to Cosette, and she smiled before skipping gracefully over to one end of the couch to perch next to Marius.  Courfeyrac abruptly realized that he had no idea what he was supposed to be joining, which probably should have occurred to him before he agreed; it was far from the first time he’d walked into a strange situation without any idea of what he was doing, but somehow it was stranger ( _more exciting_ ) having it happen in his own apartment.

“We were just about to start the movie,” Cosette called, much to Courfeyrac’s relief as he started to take off his shoes and coat.  “I was looking for some sort of snack, but Marius didn’t know if he had anything…”

Courfeyrac walked instinctively into the kitchen; they really didn’t have much, both preferring to avoid cooking as long as their wallets allowed them to get away with it.  He opened a cupboard, peering around ( _stalling_ ) and finding nothing except a package of stale cookies and a half-finished bottle of cognac ( _bingo_ ) that he was pretty sure had been a gift from someone a long time ago.

He held up the bottle, “How about this?”

Cosette gave him a thumbs up, and Courfeyrac grabbed three tiny glasses and came over to the couch, sliding down on the other side of Marius, who looked even more anxious than before.  It occurred to Courfeyrac that he probably (a) should not have been digging through the kitchen like a person who lived in this apartment, since it was supposed to be Marius’s  and (b) should have remembered that Marius didn’t really drink anything stronger than wine, which meant this was going to either end really well, or really poorly.  

“So, what are we watching?”

***

Marius was exceptionally conscious of the people sitting beside him.  He was almost painfully aware of the fact that somewhere around halfway through the movie, which was something that Cosette had picked out and contained way too much nudity to be comfortable in this particular situation; around halfway through, Cosette had reached for his hand and their clasped hands had ended up resting heavily on his thigh.  This, combined with the fact that around the same time, Courfeyrac had reached his arm up to rest on the top of the couch, slipping every so often so that it touched the back of Marius’s neck, or his shoulder, or a stray wave of Cosette’s hair.  Everything seemed warm, every accidental touch, every intended touch, was fiery, overwhelming almost, especially in conjunction with the movie, especially in conjunction with the small glass of cognac he had finally managed to swallow.  Marius tried not to drink anything he couldn’t really afford now, because to do so seemed like giving in, like betraying himself, and because it reminded him of the things he had left behind, and good riddance, and also because he couldn’t really hold his liquor and he was bound to end up drunk or sick or both.

He didn’t want Cosette to see him fail at anything, though, not this early in their relationship, even though he knew, logically, that it wouldn’t really matter; he didn’t want her to see him struggle, so he drank the tiny glass and repeatedly told himself that he wouldn’t get sick, that he just had to handle this one thing.  Especially because Courfeyrac could drink the stuff easily, because Courfeyrac was resting his hand inches above Marius and talking to Cosette over the movie, because Courfeyrac had that flirtatious tone in his voice that Marius didn’t think anyone could withstand, and he was talking to Cosette and because Marius wasn’t sure if he was worried about that, or not worried, or feeling some other, unadmitted emotion entirely.  

Marius hadn’t told Courfeyrac they would be here tonight, and he couldn’t really figure out why; it had slipped his mind, it hadn’t seemed important, it didn’t seem important now, when they were all sitting here watching a movie and no one was unhappy and everything was warm and vaguely spinning.  Maybe he hadn’t expected Courfeyrac to come home, maybe he actually had.

Marius smiled.  Cosette was laughing at something Courfeyrac had said, and her thumb was rubbing circles over his knuckle, and Courfeyrac’s eyes were shining, something that Marius both recognized as normal and had never consciously noticed.  It occurred to Marius, stupidly, that they were actually all sitting on his bed, since his bed was the couch, which threatened to make him giggle; he also realized this might have been their first date where he hadn’t worn a tie, which was a little bit embarrassing, he should get up and get one, even though it wouldn’t really fit with his collarless shirt, and no one else was wearing a tie so maybe it was okay.  Marius thought he was probably veering into slightly drunk, or he was just incredibly perceptive suddenly, every nerve in him was jumping or beating, or whatever it was that nerves did that made everything feel so…much.

Marius closed his eyes, just for a moment, just to calm his nerves, or listen to them; he was listening to Cosette laughing and talking with Courfeyrac, while Courfeyrac’s gesturing hand kept sweeping over Marius’s hair lightly.  Marius leaned his head to the side, instinctively moving towards Courfeyrac’s voice, even though a part of his brain was telling him no, stop, wrong, what are you doing; Marius had no idea what he was doing, and in a moment he was asleep.

***

The movie had ended, and Marius was asleep with his head on Courfeyrac’s shoulder and his hand still clutching Cosette’s tightly.  Cosette wasn’t sure if she should laugh or not; this was turning out to be an incredibly weird date, and she knew she ought to feel uncomfortable, especially with how familiar Marius and Courfeyrac seemed to be, but for whatever reason, she didn’t feel like anything was wrong with the current situation.  She wouldn’t have minded if Marius had decided to fall asleep cuddled up against her, instead, but he looked comfortable, and peaceful, and lovely when he was sleeping, which somehow made it all okay.  She was feeling pleasantly buzzed from the drink.

Courfeyrac glanced over at her, and even though Cosette was more than satisfied with her burgeoning relationship with Marius, who didn’t let go of her hand even when he fell asleep, she felt her stomach jump just a little bit; Courfeyrac was very good-looking, and he was fun to talk to, even if he did come on a little strong, especially for someone crashing a date, and something about talking to him felt vaguely familiar…

She asked if he had liked the movie, because she wasn’t sure what else to say, and someone had to say something.

“Absolutely,” Courfeyrac replied, and Cosette had absolutely no idea if he was being sarcastic or not, especially since he had spent much of the movie spewing commentary instead of paying attention (not that she had especially minded).  He glanced down at Marius, “Guess Marius didn’t, though.”

Cosette suspected it was less to do with the movie and more to do with the drink that had sent Marius diving into sleep, but she still let herself smile in response; she knew she was being flirted with, and she knew she was flirting back, to some degree, but it just felt so strangely familiar that it didn’t bring any of the guilt that she had been told would accompany thoughts of infidelity, it seemed like something else, entirely.

“He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, though, you know?” Courfeyrac continued, absently running his fingers over Marius’s hair, a movement that seemed practiced but was also clearly not meant to intimidate her.  “You’d never guess this was the guy who got so flustered the other day that he put salt in his coffee instead of sugar and then drank it because he was too embarrassed to ask for another one.”

Cosette laughed out loud; that sounded exactly like the Marius who had written her the letter, the one who only came out half the time and the one she found the most adorable.  Cosette knew she should run with the topic, tell her own embarrassing story about herself or Marius, alleviate the soft tension flowing through the room.  

Instead, she said, “So do you watch Marius sleeping often, then?”  

It should have been a serious question, since it was the one still floating through her brain, the unspoken worry that she was treading on his territory, even though that was seeming more and more ridiculous as time went on; instead, it came out sounding like a tease, like there was a hidden meaning she was trying to hint at, even though there really wasn’t, even though she wasn’t sure why it had come out that way at all.

Courfeyrac looked taken aback for a split second, then rejoined, in the same tone she’d used, “Not often.  But enough.  I’m sure you’re catching up.”

Cosette pursed her lips.  “Hopefully.”  She felt a little as though she had lost control of her own train of thought, that the words moving between her mind and her mouth had somehow bypassed the point where she usually stopped to consider what she was saying before she actually said it.

“Why do you have a key to Marius’s apartment?” She asked.

“Just in case.”

Courfeyrac apparently had an answer for everything, but she still hadn’t really learned anything, except that he was proficient in the areas of enticement that Marius seemed to be cautious of; Courfeyrac would not have asked her to take their courtship slow, she knew, and this was a somewhat dangerous and strange route for her thoughts to be travelling, but again the strange familiarity nagged at her, and she figured that if he was someone Marius trusted enough to give a key to, to fall instinctively asleep against, that probably meant that he was okay, that she should trust him too, that she should let her mind wander where it wanted because, after all, no one would know what she was thinking.  She wondered how it would feel to have Courfeyrac run his fingers through her hair while Marius slept between them.  The familiarity nagged.

“Have we met?  Before this?”

Courfeyrac furrowed his brow, and his fingers left off of Marius’s hair; he looked like he was struggling to make a decision, but it was subtle, and Cosette might have thought he was just staring into the distance for a moment, trying to place her, or spacing out, except Cosette had grown up learning to read someone who was very difficult to read, and so she had gotten very good at telling when people were struggling with the decision to reveal something to her or not.  She could tell when he made the decision not to tell her.

“I think I would have remembered meeting someone who looked like you,” he said, and it was sincere but also a cover-up for the previous moment, and suddenly something clicked in Cosette’s head; something about the pause, and the compliment, and the wording.  Cosette thought she might have figured something out tonight, after all.

“Maybe I’ve just seen you out with Marius,” she said cautiously, not wanting to give away the fact that she had just possibly understood what had been bothering her, not until she had thought about it more, ideally the next morning when her head was clearer.

Courfeyrac readily agreed with her, looking relieved, and they sat in silence for a moment.  Cosette glanced at the time on her phone, and then at Marius, who showed no signs of waking up in the near future; it was probably time for her to leave, to think on her own, rather than continue to test the waters here, tonight.  

“I should probably go,” she said aloud, “should we, um, put Marius to bed?”  

It wasn’t supposed to sound like such a suggestion.  

Courfeyrac grinned, “He’s probably fine on the couch...I’m just going to do the dishes and then I’ll make sure the door’s locked...when I go.”

Cosette followed his gesture on the word “dishes” to the three tiny cups sitting on the table.  It seemed ridiculous, like an excuse, a way to get her out and stay himself, even though she was the one who had made the suggestion she leave, and therefore had no real way of arguing.  And at least it made sense for him to leave second since he had the key to lock the door behind them.  Cosette stood, carefully prying her hand out of Marius’s; Courfeyrac got up a second later, letting Marius’s head slump down onto the couch cushion, clearly far less concerned than she had been about accidentally waking him.  Courfeyrac picked up the glasses and bottle and stood watching, but trying to seem like he wasn’t watching, while she self-consciously gave Marius a light kiss and retrieved her purse from the floor.  

“Oh,” she paused at the door, wheels turning, “my friend is having a party next weekend, actually, a costume party...I was going to invite Marius before I left...but you’re welcome to come, too.”

Courfeyrac grinned, “Sure. Thanks.”

“I’ll text the address to Marius tomorrow.”  He nodded and turned away into the kitchen.

Cosette let herself out, leaving behind the sound of water running and the memory of Marius’s deep breathing while he slept.  She was glad it was cold out, because it would help clear her mind, which was filled with turbulent waves of thought; she wasn’t entirely sure why she’d invited both of them, since she had intended it to be the next step with Marius, introducing him to some of her friends, but Cosette had had something of an epiphany, and she wanted to run with it until she stumbled.  She was almost positive she had figured out why Courfeyrac had seemed so familiar, and why, not coincidentally, she always felt like there were two different Mariuses when they went out, and somehow that had removed all of her doubts about whether Marius was being honest with her about his other relationships or not.  She still wasn’t convinced that the two boys weren’t already together, despite Marius’s clearly growing devotion to her; every moment she felt she had come closer to an answer, something happened to knock her back farther from finding out than she’d been to begin with.  But Cosette had realized, as she stepped out of the glowing apartment and into the dark, cold street, that maybe she didn’t care: her boyfriend might already have a boyfriend, and at all once she decided she was fine with it.

***

“This is really the worst plan I’ve ever heard,” Grantaire said as they walked up the street towards the building where Cosette’s friend was having her party in a two-story apartment, bass thumping through the air towards them and the twinkling of string lights beaming out through the apartment windows.

Courfeyrac shrugged, “They do this in movies all the time.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire replied forcefully, “and it literally never works.”

Courfeyrac shrugged again; it was too late now.  Marius had come to him in a panic a few days earlier, rambling about how much emphasis Cosette had been putting on this party as being an “important” night for them, and how he was certain he was going to somehow ruin it, and couldn’t Courfeyrac help him out just one more time.  Courfeyrac had been forced to bring up the obvious points: where was he going to hide to feed Marius lines if he and Cosette were in someone’s apartment, how were they going to hide the microphone apparatus if Marius had to let Cosette get closer than a table’s width away for the entire night, not to mention how difficult it would be to hear each other through tiny headphones at a loud party anyway.  ( _Not to mention this was getting kind of old._ )

But it turned out Marius had actually considered all of that, and come up with a new plan: they would just dress the same, with a mask, since it was a costume party and all, and Courfeyrac could essentially tag in and pretend to be Marius for short bursts, keeping Marius’s nerves from ruining the evening.  Courfeyrac was inclined to argue that this actually wasn’t a great plan, but then again, he had trouble denying anything to Marius, and it did sound kind of fun, and Marius already had the costumes put together for both of them, and so here he was, dragging Grantaire along because he couldn’t stand to arrive at a party alone.

Actually, Grantaire had been pretty eager to come along, and had actually arrived at Courfeyrac’s apartment early, looking exhausted but energized ( _which was often Grantaire’s default_ ) and wearing ridiculously tight white jeans and a white tank top with grey animal ears propped on top of his head.  He had raised an eyebrow questioningly when Courfeyrac answered the door.

“What are you supposed to be?”

Courfeyrac pulled the little black mask down over his eyes and gestured to his (also tight) ( _thanks, Marius_ ) all-black outfit and cape before brandishing the little fake sword at his hip.

“I’m Zorro,” he shrugged and put the sword back, “we needed a mask. Also, you’re one to talk - are you even wearing a costume?”

“I,” Grantaire had replied broadly, “am very obviously a sexy mouse.”  Courfeyrac smirked. “Hey, girls wear this kind of costume all the time, so I figure why can’t I?”  Courfeyrac had to wait ten minutes while Grantaire stood at Courfeyrac’s bathroom mirror drawing tiny whiskers on his face.

Forty minutes later, they walked up the last flight of stairs to the dimly lit, pounding apartment, Courfeyrac’s mask firmly in place and his stomach starting to thump with anticipation.  The air was filled with glimmers of white light and the smell of spilt drinks and smoke, all of it moving in time to the music.

“So, what, you just hide until Marius gets you?” Grantaire had to practically yell to be heard.

Courfeyrac nodded; he had to remind himself that even though he had actually been invited to this party, and probably knew other people here, he was here for Marius, to help Marius, and he had to keep his head down until the plan went into effect.  

“Okay,” Grantaire yelled, “I’m going to get us drinks and then you can hide under the stairs or something.”  Courfeyrac grinned in thanks.  “This plan is still fucking terrible though.”

***

Marius hated lying to Cosette, he felt broken by it, every moment an opportunity for a misstep or a slipped truth; Marius wanted to just sit her down and tell her how nervous he was to disappoint her, how helpful Courfeyrac had been, more than helpful, really.  But somehow, it had gotten so confused in his own head, he couldn’t even fathom how to explain, how to tell her that as much as he wanted it to be open between them, as much as he wanted her to be in on the whole thing, the idea of going it alone at this point made his throat tight.  If there was a tiny part of Marius that knew, now, that it was the loss of Courfeyrac’s whispered voice, in conjunction with his elation at seeing Cosette, that caused his throat to tighten, it was so small his larger denials easily shouted it out, and he couldn’t see it, or he couldn’t think about it, or he couldn’t admit it.

He had met her here, at the party, and her first question, after they kissed hello, was to ask after Courfeyrac, why hadn’t he come, why wasn’t he here, with Marius?  It seemed simultaneously strange and normal, and Marius had lied; he had somewhere else to be, apologies, he said to say thanks for the invitation, anyway.  Her face had briefly betrayed some strange disappointment, which was replaced just as quickly by her full attention turning on Marius, praising his dull costume and showing off her own, which was a sparkling ivory dress that fell almost to the floor and swept back into a pair of of tiny, glittery silvery wings, its neckline just low enough that Marius felt his nerves swell and her hair pulled back elaborately with silver threads.  

“It’s supposed to be like in _Ever After_ ,” Cosette explained, twirling in a small circle, “when she goes to the ball.”  

Marius nodded, he wasn’t sure he’d seen that movie, but he wasn’t sure it mattered, since she looked gorgeous and regal either way, so he pretended to know; Marius hated lying to Cosette.

They walked around the party, stopping to speak with Cosette’s friends every so often, Cosette hanging onto his arm, or his hand, her fingers claiming him, her eyes reassuring.  Marius sipped a drink that didn’t seem too horribly strong, and watched as Cosette talked and laughed and glittered under the fairy lights strung throughout the apartment; he kept checking his phone, looking at the time, making sure Courfeyrac hadn’t contacted him, making sure the plan was still on, feeling nothing but stupid in his mask and cape, grimacing every time someone asked if he was batman.  

After an hour, Marius had almost started to relax, although he was painfully aware that he wasn’t talking as much as he probably ought to be, letting Cosette lead the conversations and only speaking when he felt he had to, to avoid being rude, tripping over simple words, anticipation swelling his tongue.  After an hour and ten minutes, he bumped into Grantaire on the way to the kitchen for another drink, and felt the room lighten even as his stomach tumbled into knots, shadows that he hadn’t even noticed retreating from his peripherals; he knew Grantaire and Courfeyrac had planned to come together, which meant he could finally put the plan into motion, he could stop worrying for just a moment because Courfeyrac was good at these things, at parties and charming people and not worrying.

Marius grabbed Grantaire’s arm, which had at some point been covered erratically with many colors of glitter, and pulled him aside into a corner, feeling like he was in the middle of some spy thriller where he was the hero, the handsome, fearless one who got the girl in the end.

“Is Courf with you?” Grantaire nodded, looking bemused. “Okay, tell him it’s almost time, I’m going to tell Cosette I’m stepping out to answer my phone, and then he’ll step in, got it?”

“This is a terrible plan,” Grantaire replied, but he moved off in the opposite direction of the kitchen, so Marius assumed he was going to find Courfeyrac.  

Marius frowned and went back out to find Cosette, forgetting to get himself another drink, forgetting everything except Cosette, and Courfeyrac, and the plan.  She smiled when he came back and he told her he just needed a tiny break from the drinking, which she didn’t argue, probably because she had already witnessed him falling asleep when everyone else was perfectly fine, absolutely not his finest moment.  Cosette was asking him if he was okay, he looked a little nervous, and Marius tried to laugh it off, like nothing was on his mind, like he wasn’t sweating profusely into this stupid little mask, like he had nothing to worry about.  Cosette didn’t push it, she didn’t question it when he pretended like his phone had buzzed and he needed to leave to answer it, she just swept him into a deep but quick kiss and let him go; and she didn’t seem alarmed when Courfeyrac, dressed identically to Marius, emerged from next to the stairs and slipped into his place by her side.  Marius watched them from the doorway for a moment, wondering if he should feel jealous or concerned at how well it was apparently going already, despite Grantaire’s concerns; instead Marius felt mostly relieved, relief stacked on top of his undulating nerves.  Marius hated lying to Cosette.

 ***

Grantaire had dutifully given the instructions to Courfeyrac, even though Courfeyrac could tell he wasn’t thrilled about being complicit in this plan.  

“And I thought of something else,” Grantaire concluded, “Marius is like a foot shorter than you, she’s definitely going to notice that.”

“I’m not that much taller,” Courfeyrac replied, watching Marius look at his phone, pause for a quick ( _impressive_ ) kiss, and attempt to push awkwardly through the crowd between him and the door.  

Courfeyrac turned quickly back to Grantaire, feeling unreasonably nervous about actually putting the plan into action and looking for a momentary distraction until Marius made it safely out of view.  He’d barely had anything to drink, but the room seemed to be held motionless by a thread, threatening to veer into spinning at any moment, the twinkling lights shimmering off the metal banister on the stairs, refracted into many tiny diamonds, or possibly that was just Grantaire’s arms.

“How did you get so covered in glitter?”

Grantaire beamed, “I stopped to dance with a couple sparkly wood nymphs, while you were busy over here being piney and mopey.”

“I’m not either of those things.”  Marius had reached the door, so it was almost time, and Courfeyrac needed to be boosting himself, not thinking about how he may or may not be moping ( _pining_ ).

“You can’t fool me I am a pro at pining and moping.”  Grantaire started to put a reassuring arm around Courfeyrac before remembering he was covered in glitter _(just in time_ ), and instead pretended to push him out into the middle of the room.  “Now go put this terrible, terrible plan into motion.”

Courfeyrac floated over to Cosette, somehow managing to evade the worst of the crowd, his half-finished drink held up above his head, his cape swishing ( _in a manly way)_ around behind him.  He wanted to turn and look for Marius, to make sure Marius was okay ( _still there_ ), the way he was used to doing when they ended up at the same parties.  Instead, he kept his eyes forward and allowed Cosette to press up gently against him when he reached her; as plans went, this one was not without its perks.

“Who called?”  Cosette asked as the group of friends she had been talking to started to dissolve in separate directions.

“It was nothing,” Courfeyrac replied nonchalantly, trying to make his voice sound as Marius-like ( _awkward_ ) as possible, suddenly realizing that the difference in their voices was a flaw in the plan that no one had managed to realize before he dove headfirst into his assumed role.  Luckily, he had spent a lot of time listening to Marius, and he felt like he could do at least a passable impression; hopefully the thunderous music ( _pulse_ ) would make it so that Cosette couldn’t hear his tone too clearly anyway.

The music changed almost imperceptibly to a new song.  “Want to dance?”

Courfeyrac nodded and smiled in relief, abandoning his cup on an end table pushed up against the wall and letting her take his hand and lead him into the middle of the sea of bodies moving rhythmically around what must have been the main sitting room of the apartment.  He was glad for the opportunity to do something that would help Marius without involving deep conversation, and dancing was something he could definitely do, and something that Marius definitely could not, at least not well.

Cosette spun a tiny circle and ended up with her arms lightly ( _weightily_ ) around him as they started moving in time with the rest of the people around them; Courfeyrac tried to press his own hands against her back, trying to think like Marius, which ( _successfully_ ) resulted in his fingers getting stupidly tangled in her wings and an ensuing awkward moment of half-dancing, half-untangling until he could find a space for his hands.  He was just noticing her costume, which was impressive both in its detailing and its cut.

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look?”  He asked, leaning in close to her ear, glad he could whisper genuine compliments instead of having to pretend for Marius’s sake.  Cosette giggled lightly against him, encouraging.  “I’m surprised the whole party hasn’t stopped to stare at you, like in the movie.”

She pulled away, “An hour ago you didn’t seem to remember the movie.”

( _oops_ ).  Courfeyrac shrugged, “It came back to me.”  Apparently that was enough of an explanation, it really was helpful ( _lucky_ ) that Marius could be such a flake.

They danced, the music endlessly cycling from one song into the next, barely a missed beat in between, Courfeyrac periodically leaning in to say something close to her ear, Cosette glowing under the soft lights surrounding them, angelic, ethereal.  After what may have been moments, or minutes, or hours, she pulled back and seemed to study his face for a moment, then leaned closer and said, “I’m glad you came.”

Somehow, Cosette’s voice could stay at its normal level and still break through the noise surrounding them, even though she still leaned in close to speak directly into his ear ( _no complaints_ ).  Courfeyrac smiled, and for a moment, he forgot about being Marius; he was thinking that he was also glad, even though he was only here as part of the plan, a plan that was going to end with him alone in an apartment that had only shrunk to a comfortable fit when Marius had started sleeping there, and only brightened when he brought Cosette back with him.  And it was all temporary, of course; Courfeyrac was himself for a moment, and he was pining, and moping, and his head was swimming.  

“Me, too.”

Cosette leaned up and kissed him, pressing her lips against his, briefly but meaningfully, a kiss that went deep in brevity, that spoke to him and took away his ability to reply, taking him completely by surprise; the same kiss that she had given Marius before he had left to take his phone call.  Courfeyrac fell ( _leapt_ ) into it; even though this was definitely not part of the plan, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, and the only thought running through his head was the worry that Marius would be angry, that Marius would be upset with him and leave him sooner, that this was the thing that would kill the coiled snake of hope that lived inside him once and for all.

Cosette pulled away too slowly ( _too quickly_ ) and locked her eyes on his, looking contented and exhilarated and ( _strangely_ ) victorious.  “Come on, let’s go somewhere more quiet, okay?”

Courfeyrac didn’t see ( _want_ ) a way out, so he nodded, and let her grasp his hand and lead him through the throngs of people again, this time making for the stairs, away from the main body of the party.  He glanced around, semi-frantically, for Marius; this was supposed to be Marius, this was his girl, his party, his chance to escape to someplace quieter.  Courfeyrac couldn’t see him, could only hope that Marius was nearby and planning some sort of intervention, since this was _his_ plan after all.

Cosette led Courfeyrac up the stairs, moving slowly and deliberately in a way that he would have found incredibly alluring if his mind wasn’t half committed to ( _Marius_ ) finding a way to fix this.  She headed straight for a closed door and slipped inside, leaving Courfeyrac no choice but to follow.  This room was similarly lit by strings of tiny lights, twinkling against the light blue color of the walls like stars out during the day; there was a tiny chest of drawers, and a mirror, and a large bed with blue flowered bedding on it.  It was clearly a spare bedroom, belonging to no one but kept up, so that it looked inviting; up here, it was very quiet, quiet enough that Courfeyrac could suddenly hear both of their breathing, loud as sirens.  

Cosette pushed him lightly towards the bed, and Courfeyrac dutifully sat, mentally cataloguing what he could have possibly done to deserve this situation, while simultaneously trying to commit it to memory, just in case.  

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”  Cosette smiled and the lights glinted off her wings as she turned to leave, closing the door behind her with a tiny click.  

Courfeyrac let go of a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding as she left; this was fine, it was all going to work out fine, he just had to figure out how to get Marius into this room and get himself out before she came back.  He tried to calm his racing pulse as he reflected that, for such a terrible plan, it still wasn’t a complete disaster; then the door opened.

***

Marius burst into the spare bedroom where Courfeyrac was sitting by himself on a flowery blue bed, looking relieved and annoyed.  Marius had been watching from the doorway, from the spot near the stairs, from every shadow he could find; he had seen the dancing, and the kiss, and the leaving, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react.  He wasn’t sure if he was jealous, he certainly hadn’t wanted to stop watching them, and jealousy seemed a bit out of line anyway since this had been his plan.  Partly, he just wanted to make sure Courfeyrac was okay with all of this; and that wasn’t such a big thing to admit, just friendly concern, tinged slightly green.

Courfeyrac leapt off the bed when Marius entered and nearly ran him over, pulling off his mask and fumbling over excuses mingled with rationalizations coated with what sounded like concern and relief, and Marius was struck by the fact, as Courfeyrac put his hands on Marius’s shoulders and then hugged him briefly, that he wasn’t at all angry at Courfeyrac, or at the situation, strange as that might be.  

“At least I don’t think she knew that I wasn’t you,” Courfeyrac was concluding, “so the plan wasn’t a complete failure.”

Marius shook his head, trying to agree; he kept thinking about watching his girlfriend, who he had longed for openly for so long, kissing his best friend, who he had been yearning for so deep inside the crevices of his mind that he was only now realizing that the jealousy had been more because he wasn’t there, too, than because he wanted to replace either one of them.  Marius thought he might be going crazy, or maybe he was drunk, even though he felt fine.  He was thinking about the time he had thought Courfeyrac was going to kiss him, the times he laid his head against him, the way Courfeyrac had taken him in, essentially, and withheld judgement even though Marius knew he carried some corrupted ideals, hewn roughly from his upbringing, thoughts that Courfeyrac wanted to pick out of his brain and polish, without hurting Marius.  He was thinking about how he hadn’t told Courfeyrac when he was bringing Cosette to the apartment, how he wanted them to get along, how he needed the warmth of Courfeyrac and the sparkle of Cosette to feel like himself, to feel like a person instead of a mess.

“So I should go?”  Courfeyrac broke into Marius’s reverie, and Marius heard the words as a question even though he wasn’t sure they had been intended that way.  Suddenly, Marius felt the shutters in his brain slam shut: what if he was imagining all of this, what if he was drunk, what if he made a complete ass of himself by thinking, and knowing, and admitting.

“If she doesn’t know, I guess we stick to the plan?”  Marius hoped his words sounded like a question too, not just in his head but out in the world, in Courfeyrac’s head.  He wasn’t sure, at this moment, who he had actually been lying to this whole time.

Courfeyrac opened his mouth to reply, at the exact moment that Cosette walked back in.

***

“What plan?”  Cosette was trying to sound as innocent as possible, although she really wanted to start laughing, because both of them were looking at her like she was likely to explode.  

“Nothing,” Courfeyrac said, at the same time that Marius said, “Oh, wow, look it’s Courf!”  

Cosette bit her lip to keep from smiling.  She really needed to get better at this stone-faced authority thing, because smiling or laughing would definitely be letting them off too easily at this point, and she had no intention of letting either of them leave until she was completely satisfied.

Marius laughed nervously, “I guess we shop at the same stores, ha.ha.”

Something in her face must have given her away, because Courfeyrac took a step back and said, “I think maybe she knows.”

“I do,” Cosette couldn’t help but grin at the stricken looks on both their faces.  “I mean, come on!  Dressing alike and switching places?  That doesn’t even work for twins!  And Marius, you’re like a foot shorter than Courfeyrac!”  

“One point for R,” Courfeyrac muttered.  Cosette ignored him.

“So...you knew? That it was Courf dancing with you?”  Marius looked like he was going to faint, or maybe he was just thinking really hard, lost inside himself even as he was looking at her; Cosette was really glad she _had_ figured everything out early enough that she wasn’t angry about it, because she knew she would have melted under Marius’s pained look anyway.  He sat down on the edge of the bed, and Courfeyrac sank down beside him.

“Yes.”  Cosette walked over to the bed, standing in front of the two of them, feeling powerful and hopeful and not a bit confused.

“So why’d you kiss me?”

She had been expecting this, she was, in fact, working from her own plan, the one she had thought up as she walked away from what she strongly suspected was Marius’s _and_ Courfeyrac’s apartment, the cold air clearing her head until she knew what she had to do, what she wanted to do.  

“Because,” Cosette put her hand on Marius’s shoulder, then after a moment put her other hand on Courfeyrac’s shoulder, creating a triangular ring.  “I finally figured out why you, Courfeyrac, seemed so familiar, even though we hadn’t actually met; I knew your voice, because I’d heard your words, your phrasing, coming from Marius.  Which, by the way, was a much better plan than this one.”  She paused, sighing and tightening her grip on their shoulders for a moment; Marius reached up to grasp her wrist, for his own support or hers, she wasn’t sure.  “But the point is I wasn’t just falling for Marius, I was falling for both of you, because the two of you are so...together; I couldn’t separate the two of you if I tried, not in my head, or my...heart, or in real life.  So I figured the best thing to do was to stop trying to.”

“But Marius and I aren’t...together,” Courfeyrac said, smiling up at her sadly, like he was sorry to ruin such a good speech.

Cosette was surprised, she hadn’t expected that to be the answer, and she honestly would have expected Marius to speak up first if that was the case.  “But you want to be?”  She had come too far, at this point, to be swayed from the solution she had spent an entire week meditating on, finding that it wasn’t as alien an idea as she would have expected.  

Courfeyrac replied, “I don’t know,” at the same time that Marius abruptly said, “yes.”

Courfeyrac turned to Marius, “Wait, what?”

Cosette loved the way Marius’s cheeks reddened, the way he was clearly thinking very hard about his words before he spoke, the comforting weight of his hand on her wrist, the soft light surrounding them with a gentle glow that fit the moment perfectly.  Cosette’s plan was working out much better than theirs.  

***  
Marius wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say, or how he wanted to say it, but the fact that Cosette wasn’t storming out or looking at him like he had destroyed her seemed like a very good sign, an encouragement that Marius needed to find the part of himself that wanted to say it out loud, that wanted to remember and know and admit and believe that there was nothing wrong with him for falling in love incredibly quickly with two people and knowing he probably couldn’t survive without either of them.

“I just...I was scared,” he said, finally, and damned if that wasn’t the stupidest thing Marius had said all day, he could hear how he sounded and he certainly didn’t sound like the conquering hero-spy he had envisioned himself just a few hours earlier.  “Just...falling in love is easy, but acting on it, that’s a completely different thing, and it’s scary, and...I was scared.”

Marius looked up at Cosette, for reassurance, and she was smiling, encouraging; Marius knew that somewhere along the line he had gotten incredibly lucky, to be here, to deserve either of them.  Cosette nodded almost imperceptibly and Marius turned back to Courfeyrac, who was staring at him with his jaw dropped like a cartoon character.

Abruptly, without thinking about it any longer, Marius closed the distance between himself and Courfeyrac and kissed him; it was like a tiny explosion, something that had been building inside of Marius for months, every hour, every second growing by infinitesimal amounts, until now it combusted, filling the room with warmth, with fire, with air, making it so that Marius could finally breath again, like he hadn’t in forever.  Courfeyrac melted into him, and Marius could tell that he was having the same experience, that they had both been dodging and pretending and giving up for so long that it was impossible to not feel exaltation now, when they were both finished pretending and giving up.  Cosette squeezed his shoulder encouragingly and Marius pulled away from Courfeyrac, feeling like the whole world had suddenly opened up for him, for them.  

Marius thought of a conversation he’d had with Courfeyrac one night, drunk, their legs dangling out over the street, and he thought about how he loved him, Courfeyrac, and how he loved Cosette, even though it was probably too soon for him to say so to either of them directly, and how he had been raising barriers without even knowing, barriers that were now falling like felled trees around them.

***

Courfeyrac felt like the entire world had tipped; somehow his empty pining had turned into something else, something that made Cosette smile at him while Marius lunged forward and pushed their lips together.  Courfeyrac felt like he was floating, he felt like he was finally ( _finally_ ) emerging from a long winter kept in the dark, emerging out into sunlight and glowing strings of lights and mountains of blue flowers piled around them.  

He let his eyes close, keeping them shut even after Marius pulled away, for just a second, letting himself commit the feeling of the kiss to memory.  When he opened his eyes, both Marius and Cosette were smiling at him; then Cosette turned to Marius and kissed him deeply, and it was a little bit strange, but in a way that made sense, that seemed like it would satisfy, filling the holes that had begun to form inside him recently.  

Cosette broke away from Marius and turned to Courfeyrac, kissing him for the second time in the last thirty minutes or so; she kept her hands on their shoulders, and it was grounding, it kept him from floating away with his elation, kept him steady like an anchor.  Courfeyrac didn’t want to her to let go.  He reached out and grabbed for Marius’s hand while Cosette kissed him, closing the circle.  

Courfeyrac wondered what would have happened if he’d known, that Marius was interested, that Marius was scared, but at the same time he knew it wouldn’t have mattered, because it wasn’t the two of them, it was the three of them, and that felt easy, and right, and better.

“So,” Cosette pulled back and looked at them both in turn, a satisfied smile spread across her face, the edge of a lacy black bra strap peeking out from her white dress, alluring and innocent and perfect; she was addressing Marius: “Are you still scared?”

Marius flushed, and moved his thumbs gently against both of their hands, before quietly saying “no” and sounding like he meant it.

Cosette’s smile changed, becoming more of a grin, a teasing wickedness creeping forward as she pushed them both down gently, lovingly onto the bed.  “Prove it.”


End file.
